


Something Sweet

by midlistauthor



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: I hate! titles! and! summaries!, I just wanted this out of my head I’m so tired of it being there, M/M, Modern AU, audience: goes wild, being a writer is a curse, it’s just the ramblings of two confused idiots, practically a drabble, willy: his name is fleance because he...flees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 16:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midlistauthor/pseuds/midlistauthor
Summary: Macduff and Malcolm are idiots in love. Period.





	Something Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> I have so much to do but! At least this is done and now! I can go write some angry essays because I am sad! I miss my best friend and I want him back! This was originally going to be long and angsty but here we are. Please leave feedback if you have a moment.

Macduff sat at the counter of his flower shop. The walls at the front were made entirely of glass, showering the potted plants and fresh cut flowers that lined the shelves in pale sunlight. The counter itself had buckets of bouquets heavily adorning its front, making the man on the stool behind it appear as though he sat upon a large floral throne. Behind it, a pastel green wall sectioned off the back of the store, where the less picturesque supplies were kept. 

Macduff was slumped over, staring out of the door, fiddling with the piece of cardstock in his hand. It said this: “I know this is a hard time of year for you. I’m always here if you want to talk. Signed, Malcolm.”

He shook his head with exasperation. “A hard time of year…” It was almost a year since he had lost his family. Really, it was about a year since Malcolm had lost much of his family, too. Macduff almost wished he had been the first to mention it, to invite Malcolm to talk, and to offer his ear. But Malcolm knew Macduff’s weaknesses so intimately that it scared him. That’s why he tried to push him away. That, and…He knew what the feeling was, he just didn’t want to put a name to it, to really give it a shape and form. Like it would make him disloyal to his wife. He wasn’t supposed to experience those feelings so soon after her passing. But maybe after a year, it had been dragged on long enough…?

Macduff set the card down on the box with which it came - a small box of chocolate chip cookies from the bakery where he knew Malcolm worked. In their small town, Fleance would deliver every special order (or, it would seem, things never ordered in the first place). Macduff, for that reason, got to see Fleance pretty frequently over the past year. He didn’t give him much in the way of words other than a polite greeting, though. This was less about Fleance’s personality, Macduff assumed, and more about the vibes he tended to give off. 

Point is, he and Malcolm had developed a rather over-the-top method of communication, dancing around the more reasonable option of even texting, dammit, maybe because such a direct form of communication would be too real. Malcolm would send Fleance over with some sort of baked good (usually cookies - anything else was too sugary), and if Macduff wanted to respond, he would have a bouquet of flowers delivered. Whether Malcolm ever brought them home or left them to decorate the bakery, he didn’t know. Not that it mattered. 

With an air of resignation, Macduff pushed himself up and got to work. He had no customers at the time. What could be the harm? He had to focus on not trying to answer that question. He located a clear vase and began to gather stems of gypsophila as a base. A few standard white carnations were added to the mix. And - he couldn’t help it - a few more fragile camellias. It was Macduff’s favorite flower, and he often wondered if maybe he used it too much for others’ liking. But this wasn’t for a customer, really, so it didn’t matter, really. But on the other hand, of course it did. It mattered much more than it would were it for just another customer. 

Macduff stared at his creation for some time before adding a ribbon - a gentle yellow, he had decided on. Then he sat back down at his counter and pulled a card and pen out from the drawer. And he wrote. He wrote a few times, actually, trying to get that perfect balance between inviting and uninvested. “Thanks for your concern. Know you are just as welcome in my shop if ever you need to vent. Macduff.”

He certainly hadn’t expected Malcolm to take him up on that offer, but that’s exactly what happened. About a week after the flowers had been sent off, there Malcolm was, walking in to his flower shop around noon. Macduff was entirely caught off guard, sitting on his phone at his counter, not sure what to say. “Welcome! How can I help you today?” didn’t seem right. 

“Hi,” Malcolm started awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. His bangs had gotten just a tad overgrown, though given the state of his unfairly soft and fluffy hair, it looked far from bad. 

Macduff slapped his phone down onto the counter rather ungracefully. “Hey.” That’s all he said initially, until he realized that maybe - “Oh, sorry. You’ve come to talk, is it? There’s an extra stool in the back.” He said this as he stumbled out of his own seat and half-jogged, half-tripped to the back half of the store. 

Malcolm hadn’t a second to get a word in response-wise and was unsure by what Macduff had said if he was supposed to follow. That was, until the man came back with a second wooden stool, sat it down across from his, and gestured for Malcolm to sit. “Thanks. Um-”

“How are you?” Macduff started. He hated this. Hated it. He had mastered the art of small talk, but he could not for his life begin talking of the intricacies of emotion. How had he expected this to go?

“I’ve missed talking to you,” Malcolm forced out. “In person, I mean. I just want to know why you distanced yourself from me.”

Ah, so he had noticed. Of course he had; he was nowhere near stupid. Macduff said sharply, a bit too much so, “It was nothing personal.”

“Then what was it?” Malcolm almost sounded pained, he thought. He spoke quickly. “Macduff, I thought I had found a friend in you, a…something closer, even. We were there for each other when times were at their worst. You were there for me, and then you just…weren’t. I miss being able to confide in you, and I miss you confiding in me. Sorry if that’s…all a bit much. A bit sudden. But I found you when I had lost everyone else, and now I don’t have anyone else. Sorry, that’s maybe a lot of pressure. I don’t mean for it to be. I just want to know what it was that I did to - to push you away.”

Macduff has been listening patiently, if not internally terrified, but Malcolm’s last sentence took him by surprise. “No, no, it wasn’t you. Not at all.” He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was expected to continue. What should he say? The truth? He hardly had the energy to come up with much else. “I dunno, I’m not used to getting close with people.” God! What a dumb thing to say! “I mean that, yes, we had been very close, and if I’m being honest, that scared me a bit. I…”

“Well, if that’s all,” Malcolm interrupted, standing up, “I wanted to ask if you’re free to have dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” Macduff said, surprised. He had been gearing up for some sort of unplanned heart-to-heart, a long overdue admittance of his feelings. That was one trouble traded for another. “I suppose I am. I leave here after six.”

“Great. I will come pick you up then,” Malcolm said with finality. Then he stalked out of Macduff’s flower shop and disappeared around the corner. 

So, at six o’clock, as promised, Malcolm returned to the store. He peeked inside as Macduff was just tidying up. “Ready to go?”

Ready as he’d ever be, really. Macduff nodded. “Yes, let me just close up.” They were silent for almost the entire walk to Malcolm’s apartment (or would condo be a more appropriate term, given its size?). Macduff was not aware at first that that was where they were going, not until commercial streets gave way to nothing but housing. He had never been before. Malcolm had been to Macduff’s place maybe once or twice, but that was it. Most of their deep conversations had happened long past closing hours at the bakery over a cup of tea. 

Malcolm, after visiting Macduff earlier, had gone home and spent many hours cleaning and preparing a lofty meal. They walked in to a warm, cozy living room, a perfectly sized dining table set up in the back. Food was already laid out on porcelain plates with napkins and assorted silverware beside them. A rather familiar bouquet of camellias and carnations adorned the center. Under it all was a vivid red table cloth. 

“You can leave your shoes on, if you’d like,” Malcolm said as he removed his loafers. The shiny white marble floor felt just a couple of degrees cooler underfoot, even with socks on. 

“Your place is lovely,” Macduff said, so taken aback that he hadn’t even stepped inside. He decided to follow Malcolm in suit and abandoned his old sneakers at the door before following him towards the table. “And-And all of it is, I mean. This looks incredible. Did you prepare it all yourself?”

Malcolm flushed at the sudden compliments. “I did, thank you.”

Macduff almost became tense again, worried that Malcolm would want to talk about more serious subjects again. But he didn’t. 

As Malcolm instead starting going on about some new recipes he had been trying, Macduff supposed that was one of the benefits of having a friend who knew you very well. Malcolm was plenty aware that Macduff wasn’t keen on discussing emotions unless it was of his own accord, and he didn’t mind. 

As they ate, they started to share funny stories, laughed over stupid jokes. It was a lot like it had been, once. It was a little bit scary, how quickly they fell back into their friendship, but they didn’t slow down. 

Malcolm was cleaning up the dishes after (Macduff offered his help but he insisted! He’s a guest!) as Macduff contemplated whether he should say something. Like, something important. 

“I made a sponge cake,” Malcolm said from the kitchen. 

“Did you?” Macduff replied absentmindedly. 

“I know you don’t really love the super rich stuff. This should be nice and light.”

“Do you mind if I say something?” Macduff asked. 

“Of course not,” Malcolm said, knowing Macduff was being serious and it was time for him to quiet down and listen. He considered sitting back down, but thought the other might prefer not to have the pressure of making eye contact, so he busied himself with tidying the kitchen up. 

“The reason I…pushed you away. I was scared because you just seem to know me so well. It still kind of scares me?”

“Oh,” Malcolm said. 

“I don’t know that that’s the best way to phrase it. Maybe it just seemed too good to be true. Maybe you...seemed too good to be true? Like, all this tragedy hit, but there you were. You made me happy and I think I was thinking that I didn’t deserve to be happy...maybe.” He gesticulated wildly as he said all this, all the while staring into the table as if searching for answers inscribed in it. “So I’m sorry if I was - I was mean to you. It’s - Really, I’m just dealing with my own problems.”

“Do you mind if I say something?” Malcolm mirrored, voice a little small. 

“Certainly not,” Macduff answered, confused. 

Malcolm made himself visible in the kitchen, though he didn’t look up. “I think I’m in love with you.” He didn’t think it, he knew it, but leaving room for doubt made for a(n albeit thin) layer of security. 

“Oh.” Macduff could feel the heat under his skin. He hadn’t been expecting that. Malcolm didn’t move, and he realized he was supposed to answer. “I…I do imagine I’m in love with you as well.”

Malcolm slumped against the wall with a heavy sigh of relief. “God, I was so worried. I’m so glad you feel the same way.” Neither really knew what was supposed to happen next. “Sponge cake?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading. Uhhh I could go off but? The app. three people reading this don’t need that. Have a nice day


End file.
